You are the Problem
by GinnyJeanWeasley
Summary: A soulmate AU where if your soulmate writes on themselves, it shows up on you as well. John is held within the strict rules of apperience in his family while Alex doesn't give a care. As things progress, John begins to realize that what he had done as a child is effecting his possible life with Alex. Slow moving ig and tbh I don't know if it's going to have a Lams or a Hamliza end.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, guess who's back about four years later with a lot less cringe? It's me, Livvie! (I'm sure I just made that first statement very convincing). I've been going through some stuff in my life that I need to get away from and I though "What better way to forget about feeling like the bottom of a shoe than to go back to doing something that I used to love"? Don't get me wrong-I've always loved** **writing, but I just haven't done it freely since, again, about 2014. To be quiet honest, I'm not as into what I'm writing about as I once was, but that doesn't mean I never was. It also doesn't mean I can't still write bomb stories about these characters-they'll just have a bit more of my personal flare.**

 **Most of you probably don't care about this anyway, so I'll just get on with it and get into the story:**

* * *

John had always hidden the marks that appeared on his arms; him as well as the rest of his family. His father, Henry, had painted an image to the public of prim, proper, and pressed, and it was up to the Laurens children to uphold said image.

The others never had quite the same problems he had for covering up their markings. His siblings seemed to have soulmates who were tame and understood that there was never going to be a response, so writing was useless and damaging in the public eye. John's soulmate, on the other hand, seemed to have turned their bodies into breathing canvasses. Ink and notes and dates and doodles constantly found home on his arms and thighs; occasionally drifting on to his chest and stomach. Although John loved to see the flicks of marker from his supposed one-true-love, his father had other things to say.

Ever since John turned three, he had worn foundation across his visible skin. He was now 14 and could barely remember what his skin looked like without it. His soulmate left no inch untouched by the soft felt tip of his sharpie, and John was left to reep the consequences. His freckles that dotted his entire being were never free from the thick pale foundation-causing him to stand out amongst all the other freckled Laurens children. The oldest and the most influential of the siblings, and yet he was forced behind a mask on the daily to keep his father's image one of class.

John's mother fell more into the shadows with John. Henry was such a large and powerful figure in South Carolina, but she simply stood aside and let him do as he wished. She used to write to him when they were children, but now the only thing that blemished their delicate skin was a small pair of intertwined hearts tattooed just behind their right ears. He always dreamed of having a love like his parents-one where his father caved into getting a tattoo for his mom; however, based on how his father was forcing him to treat whoever it was who brandished the felt tip marker, John almost couldn't image her wanting to even stay with him.

Although John had all these fears surrounding his soulmate and however that was going to play out, he was also entering his freshman year of high school; also known as the most depressing place to be for any teenager. And although he was worried about the person with the marker, he was more worried about not fitting in. It kind of connects back to the whole soulmate ordeal, but the majority of people had already met and gotten together with the person they were going to marry and were flourishing before they have to take on the responsibilities following high school. Not only that, but John feared he was going to meet his soulmate at the high school and have to explain to her why he'd never once wrote back.

John couldn't even fathom the idea of knowing your soulmate was ignoring you-or worse; you were an anomaly and didn't even have one in the first place. There was only ever one documented person who "didn't have a soulmate", and even then, their soulmate just wasn't born yet. Image being 35 and finding out your soulmate was 3 weeks old, because that's what that woman went through. And straight after that baby turned 18 they stuck together like glue because the woman didn't have hardly much time left to live considering all the drugs she took when she thought she'd be single forever.

It was a bit off topic, but still relevant. Like, what if whoever this woman was ended up doing the same things that that lady did; drugs, alcohol, the whole shebang? His father would never let him be with a woman who did that kind of thing to herself. His mother would be much more forgiving, but she fell victim to his father's strong opinions almost every day.

John sighed and took a deep breath. He stared into his mirror and blended his foundation just slightly more around his jaw. This was all too much to be thinking about for someone who was about to begin a whole new life at a whole new school. He was getting himself siked up before he even stepped foot in the building. He flipped his short, curly auburn hair through his hands and ran his fingers along the freshly buzzed sides before cuffing his sleeves and turning for the door; backpack slung over left shoulder.

* * *

Alex ran his hands through his long, greasy hair and tied it up in the sloppiest high ponytail he'd done in a long time. The small braid Hercules so meticulously put in before he went to bed was now a tangled mess that blended in astonishingly with his messy hair look for the first day of high school. His eyebrows were thick and full; though they couldn't distract anyone from the heavy eyebags that found home on his cool, ashy face. His nose sat awkwardly among this array of strong features and fought to be noticed against the others-sticking out far too much to be in proportion with his slim and petite face. He picked up his clunky, thick glasses and wiped the smudges off as best he could with his ratty pajama shirt before shoving them on his face.

Alex turned to grab his button up short sleeve shirt before cuffing the sleeves slightly and throwing on the plaid print over his plain white shirt-leaving it unbuttoned. Black skinny jeans were a go to and found a place in his look as well as some torn-up high tops.

Alex's arms showcased thousands of small reminders and notes and doodles he wrote to himself. He flipped up his palm and grabbed a sharpie before checking off "dress well" on his "First Day of HS" list. He took a final look at himself in the mirror before grabbing his bag and going to get a cup of coffee.

Hercules had already poured him a cup to go when he walked into the kitchen-two creams, five sugars. Alex liked to think he was a black coffee drinker, but he knew he was sugar's bitch.

"Ready to go, dirt bag?" Hercules asked, staring at his hair.

"Alway," Alex said, "look what's in my hand."

"I suppose you're right," Hercules said with a chuckle, grabbing his own cup. The pair headed out of the tiny apartment complex to Herc's old Honda and got in to head off to school.

* * *

 **I realize that this was a bit short and it ended abruptly, but work with me here. It's my first time writing for fun in a while, I wanna keep y'all interested, and it's one in the morning and I have to be up at four to get ready for swimming. So please let me know if y'all like it. Live some criticism for me and thank you for reading this all ig?**


	2. Chapter 2

John stumbled into the bathroom, just barely dodging the administrator peering down the halls in an attempt to capture students who were skipping class. While some knew where they were going, the school still had three floors, so it was no wonder that for pretty much the first few months the admins were weeding students out for "skipping". Wiping his brow, he peered into the mirror and saw that the nervous sweat that dotted his forehead was starting to make his foundation run. John placed his bag down and pulled out a rag as well as his makeup. It was pointless to try to reapply when he was still shaking in his Doc Martens.

He ran his hands under the cool water of the school sink (with as much as they had to pay to attend this school, John thought they should at least invest in a water heater) and scrubbed his face clean. A grin broke out when he saw the sloppy drawing of a smile done in blue ball-point on his cheek. Figuring it would be better to re-do his clammy hands as well, John scrubbed until he revealed his soulmate's "First Day of HS" check list, noting that "dress well" had been checked off since he covered up that morning. John could just imagine her-beautiful and blond donning a flower dotted spring dress. God, he just wanted to meet her; he just wanted to let her know he was there.

He had always wanted to write to her, but he never did. Not even in the moments when it really mattered. He still harbored regret from the situation four years prior. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

 _John sat on his bed, staring at his arm. The words would not go away. They burnned into his soul._

 _"Hey... If anyone is actually there, I really need you right now..."_

 _He did not know what to do. He kept staring-not having the courage to look away or do something about it. What even could have happened?_

 _"I get it if you are busy, but I really need someone. My mother just passed away. I need anyone."_

 _What could he even do? He couldn't help her. How could he make it better? How could she know he was there?_

 _"Sorry..." John muttered to himself. He pulled down he sleeve and got up to get dinner._

That time was past though. He hoped she would forgive him; after all, he is her soulmate. He was just listening to his father's rules.

* * *

"You see, that's the thing-I don't think what we need right now is some sort of policy or "let's all hold hands and get along" crap. It didn't work with the Olive Branch Treaty with the colonists when they got pissed about the Boston blockade, it won't work now. What brings people together more than anything? Fighting against the common enemy, i.e. war," Alex ranted before talking a sip of his coffee.

"I disagree-War is just another way people can turn against each other. You remember learning about the war we had with Mexico before the Civil War? The north wanted to make all of the new land slave-free and the south didn't like one bit of that-"

"But this is different, Herc. As far as I know, no one has been talking about succeeding from our country-they're just bitching and moaning about one little thing or another. Genuinely, I feel like a war would do our nation good, it's just the nukes that would be a problem," Another sip of coffee, "and if someone took away the likelihood of us all being whiped out in nuclear war, trust me, I would be the first one supporting the cause."

"Oh, I trust you all right," Hercules snickered, "Damn, Alex I can see you leading the revolt; you're a war monger!"

"Ha ha very funny," he went to take another sip of his coffee, but nothing came out. He frowned and put the cup on the floor of the Honda and Hercules glared.

"You better pick that up when we get home today."

"I will, don't worry about it. I am very responsible."

Hercules snorted as he pulled into the student parking lot and turned off the car.

"Do you think you'll be able to take care of yourself today? The first day of high school is a big deal."

"Stop worrying, mom, I'll be alright," Alex laughed. He grabbed his backpack from the backseat.

Apporaching the school, while still intimdating, wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. They exited the parking garage and the school looked just like all of the other tall building you find in New York City. Walking into the building was also okay because he had Hercules there to clear the way. In fact, entering the building just got him more excited for the year to come.

He, however, could not overlook the stares as he walked past the crowds of people he didn't know. There are perks of living in New York City, and one is not knowing who anyone is, but in Alex's case, that perk was not one he was often reciprocated. Being the school's "loud mouth" made him very clearly picked out among the crowd. That among other things (like, maybe the ink that he chose the decorate himself with). People would always stare. Sometimes, he enjoyed the attention, but other times it just made him wish he wasn't so... himself.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry its been so long. I'm trying :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I have the flu, so I'm sorry if this chapter seems less quality then the others. Thank you for all of the support btw! I think I know where I want this story to go, but just an fyi, there is going to be aspects of both Hamliza and Lams before we get to the end. You'll just have to wait and see ;)**

* * *

Although John was literally in a public bathroom, the door slamming open caused a rush of anxiety to shoot through his whole body. Luckily, he had already covered up, but all the contents of his makeup bag was spilled across the bathroom counter. He instinctively stretched his arms out in an attempt to cover his shame when he heard the voice from behind him.

"Mon Deiu, John-what happened to you?"

Lafayette.

"Thank god it's just you. I almost crapped myself when you barged in."

"Well, that would have been unfortunate considering we are in a bathroom. Please tell me you already took care of that, because, if not, I am going to go back to trying to find my class."

"It's just an expression. I'm sure there is a similar one in France," Lafayette was a part of some kind of fancy student exchange program. Although he wanted to go to somewhere like New York, John's school offered on campus housing. While Lafayette was not starving for cash, it was just more convenient then trying to get him a place or a family to stay with in New York City. Besides, he (or at least John hoped) was happy where was after spending the summer in South Carolina. The two had run into each other at church-neither really getting along with the other kids their age, they bonded. The look on Laf's face when he found out John would also be going to his school was priceless. Going in knowing one person is a lot better then having to map uncharted territory. "Also, I'm glad I'm not the only one who has no clue where they're going. It didn't look that complicated on the map. But in that same regard, they felt the need to have a map."

"What map? I did not see a map."

"You're telling me you didn't see the massive sign right after you walked in? It looked like the kind you'd find in the mall-"

"Oh! Yes, I did see that thing. I didn't know it was a map though. Maybe I can try to decipher it."

"Hold on one second," John carefully packed up his makeup and slid it into his backpack. He slug it over his right shoulder before awkwardly squishing his left arm into the other strap. Lafayette snickered at him. "Don't laugh! Football tryouts are coming up and I can't ruin my shoulder if I want a shot at varsity. Trust me, I learned that the hard way."

Lafayette doubted John ever had to learn anything the hard way. They snuck out of the bathroom and down a maze of halls until they eventually came before a massive glowing sign. "What is you class number?"

"206."

Lafayette stood still a minute, calculating what number that would be in French. "Deux-cent six..." He muttered, scanning his finger from the "YOU ARE HERE" dot to John's classroom. John noticed his sleeve slip up his arm, revealing a crappy stick-figure doodle of two people holding hands and the heart drawn underneath. They were two different inks. Lafayette had spoken to his soulmate recently. "John, mon ami, you need to go up that way, turn right just before the hyper-realistic painting of the falcon, and walk straight until you come to a T-intersection. Take a left and it should be three doors down on your left."

"What would I do without you?" John sighed.

"Not go to class? Fail high school?"

"Hah. You're so funny."

"I was not trying to be. I am just telling the truth."

John saw the innocence on his face-he didn't understand the sarcasm. Or, at least, he was pretending not to. "Well, thanks Laf. I guess I'll see you in a few; I'm already fifteen minutes late."

"Yes, go on. I will see you soon."

John turned away and tried to remember the directions Lafayette gave him as he aimlessly wondered the halls. By the time he got there, he was thirty minutes late. Thankfully, that teacher was forgiving. However, though he was just as late, the other classes took no pity on his tardiness.

When Lafayette met him smiling out on the blacktop, John couldn't hold back his groan as he pulled out a small piece of paper: detention sheet.

"What did you do?"

"I was late to Algebra! It's the first day and this school is a damn labyrinth! She was so rude about it too!"

Lafayette couldn't help but laugh, "John, you seem so hurt. Detention is not that bad."

"Says you! I've never had it before! And it wasn't even my fault!"

"Quiet down, people are staring."

John looked around and noticed the eyes on him. He felt his cheeks heat up.

"Besides, John, how wasn't it your fault? You were the one who was late to class, non?"

"Well, yes, but it's the first day and-"

"It may not be fair, but it was still your fault."

John frowned.

"It will be alright, you will just have to explain it to your parents."

"That's the hard part," John groaned. "But I guess there's nothing I can do about it now."

Lafayette let out another chuckle, "Well, since you are apparently staying after, I guess I am walking home alone. John, I will see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Laf," John grumbled, looking back at his detention slip.

* * *

This was it-the moment he was waiting for. Alex knew that most everyone assumed that he would be ecstatic about english, but ROTC was where his heart was really at. He walked into the classroom, noticed the pile of bags in the back of the room, and added his to the pile. That classroom was empty, but the stream of students leading him across the hallway clued him in to where he was going. Across the hallway was a much bigger classroom with many more students. From freshmen to seniors, they all gathered together. He couldn't find the teacher, but he did notice the group of seniors gathered at the front of the classroom, chatting amongst themselves.

"Platoon-fall in!"

Alex jumped at the loud voice and watched as the upper classmen scattered into three evenly spaced lines. Following suit, he joined in. The senior who had yelled the command began going through role.

"Adams."

"Here, sir!"

"Arnold."

"Here, sir!"

"Burr."

"Here, sir!"

Now that was a name he knew. Aaron Burr and him had known each other since sixth grade whenever it came time to elect student council. Alex had known he wanted to be treasurer and set to his campaign and ideas while Aaron had waited until he saw no one was running for secretary before deciding to apply. He knew he was going to win, and even then, his campaign said nothing about his ideas; he just passed out lolipops that said "Don't be a Dum-dum, vote for Aaron" on them. Although Alex liked him as a friend, he had no respect for him politically. Harsh for sixth grade? Maybe, but his "lay back and see how things turn out" personality has stayed a constant and has constantly annoyed Alex since he was introduced to it.

"Hamilton. Hamilton?"

Crap, that was him. "Here, sir!"

The senior finished going through role before who Alex assumed to be the teacher, followed by a couple other people, entered the room.

"Good morning," the teacher said.

"Good morning sir, good morning senior chief, good morning chief," the upper classmem echoed. Alex straightened his back and gulped. He could feel his palms start to sweat through his gripped hands.

"I am Commander George Washington," the one who entered first said, "Welcome to ROTC. This is Senior Chief Nathaniel Green and Chief Daniel Morgan. Welcome back to those who have come back and welcome to all of our new NS1's. We all are excited that you are here," he smiled. "That said, if you do not want to be here, let us know because we do not want you here. If your parents forced you to do this, raise your hand and we'll get you out and situated before the end of the week."

No one raised their hand and he nodded. The senior marched the "NS1's" across the hallway and back to the classroom that they had put their backpacks down in. They filed into the rows of desks and sat down when Washington told them to.

"So, we're going to go around the room and I want everyone to say their name and why they decided to join ROTC."

The boy who sat in the front of the first row sprang to his feet and a cunning smile broke onto his face, "My name is Jefferson, and I joined ROTC because I moved here from Virginia and I heard that you, sir were also from VA. I thought a little bit of home would help me get accustom to New York."

Washington laughed, "Well I'm glad to help if you need it, and the students in this program are too. If you see someone walking around in uniform, don't be afraid to ask for help."

Alex already hated Jefferson. The next kid stood up. "My name is Schuyler and I joined because my older sister, Angelica is in the program and she thought it would be a good way for me to get out of my comfort zone."

Washington smiled and replied to her. Alex didn't pay attention to what he said though, he was too busy looking at Eliza. She had this beautiful black hair that fell down just past her shoulders and a petit frame. The smile on her face is what caused him to stare, and her light blue eyes held him in. Once again, he was caught off guard.

A book was dropped on his desk. "Your turn, Mr..."

"A-Ah, Hamilton, sir!" He jumped to his feet, "I joined ROTC because I want to join our armed forces, sir, and this seemed like the smart way to start."

"Well, Hamilton, just so you know, you have to pay attention in this class and whenever you go off to duty, if that is eventually decide to do. You'll get there eventually, but just remember that."

They went around the rest of the classroom, everyone participating in the icebraker, before Washington stood up to make some ground rules.

"Alright, I am going to get the hardest rule out of the way first. Many of you know, we do have uniforms here. One of the rules we uphold with them is that nothing can be showing that isn't up to code. That includes any writing on your skin, looking at you, Hamilton," Washington smiled, "so I'm going to pass out sharpies and I want everyone to write to their soulmates "nothing on the arms or above the collar bone", got it?"

Washington began passing out sharpies to everyone and Alex watched as people began to scratch notes out to their soulmates. Alex reluctantly took a sharpie and wrote the message to himself on his arm, just to wash off again that night. In fact, he'd be washing off everything that night. Damn, writing on himself would be a hard habit to break, but at least now he'd have an excuse for not having any messages.

* * *

 **A/N: I hoped you all enjoyed!**


	4. Chapter 4

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Did time feel like it was getting slower? It definitely did. John sat with his cheek resting against his palm. Pencil tapping aimlessly on the desk. Eyes glued to the clock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The teacher sat at his computer. Faint sounds of cheering came from the YouTube video he was watching."LSU once again catching an interception! 50, 25, 15, 10–he's good! Touch down tigers!" "Goddammit..."

His eyes drifted to the ceiling.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Is this what going crazy feels like? Because if he had to sit there for one more second—

"Alright guys, it's 3:30. I hope you had time to reflect on your actions today to make a better tomorrow."

Thank god.

John hoped to his feet and snatched his backpack. He swung it onto his left arm (don't worry, not his throwing arm) and practically ran to his car. He hit the ignition and was speeding home.

Once he got back to the Laurens' Estate and saw the sitting room light turned on he new he was in for it. John turned off the car and, against his earlier urgency, trudged up the stairs. His father was sitting alone in the sitting room. A glass of rum lazily being swirled in his hand. He didn't even have to move for John to know to take a seat.

Henry Laurens peered up from his lap. One eyebrow delicately raised. Speak. John flushed pink, "Look, it wasn't my fault—!"

"Stop," John gulped, "Tell the truth. Because if it wasn't your fault then where and why the hell were you where ever you were at?"

"..." John could feel the fear boiling in the pit of his stomach. "Well... I got detention..?" He heard the glass of rum being set down. "I was only a couple minutes late to math! It was a big school and—!"

"Stop. Now." Henry's voice was like ice, sending a shiver down John's spine. "I've heard enough of your excuses for one day. Do your work in your room. Martha will bring you dinner. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the night. If you can't take ownership of your own actions then why should I be accountable for dealing with them?" He paused, though the question was rhetorical. "Go."

John hoped to his feet and made his way up the stairs to his room. He threw his bag on to his bed before heading to the bathroom to start a shower. As the water started running, he learned into his mirror. Tear streaks left his flushed and freckled skin visible through the mask.

* * *

Alex had the biggest grin on

his face as he wormed his way through the crowded halls and back to Herc's Honda. When he got there Hercules was waiting, doodling something to his soulmate. Alex's smile faltered slightly before he pushed his negative thoughts aside.

"I'm one step closer to leading a revolt and starting nuclear war!"

Hercules snorted, "A step closer? At least wait for me to invest in a bunker somewhere in the middle of nowhere before you go and off yourself as well as the rest of the world." They both slid into the car. "How was your day?"

"Amazing! There, of course are some assholes, but, I mean, every time I think about ROTC it's like they don't even exist."

"You know that's just a class and you won't actually be starting a student revolt on all assholes and people who share their great-grandad's view of society."

"If only," Alex laughed, "one bad thing though—I have no idea how I'm going to get all of this junk off my body. We can't have writing when we're in uniform."

Hercules started cackling, "how many times did I tell you those drawing were gonna bite you in the ass? No need to make yourself stand out with that writing if everyone already knows."

Alex got quiet. Though he was right, it didn't hurt any less to know he was alone. As they pulled up to the apartment building, Alex left his coffee cup on the floor of the car.

The first thing he did after dropping his bag was to turn on the shower, making it as hot as it would go. Then he ran to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of sugar, honey, and a bowl. He saw it on a DIY video once. A few minutes later, he had something to exfoliate his skin and to hopefully get rid of the pen that littered his small frame.

The water was scolding, and though it caused him to jump at first, Alex soon relaxed against the symphonic beat of the water hitting his back. He grabbed the sugar scrub and got to work.

Three hours later, Alex emerged from the shower bright red, skin rubbed raw, and not a trace of ink on his body. He looked in the mirror (after wiping off the thick white fog). He couldn't remember what he looked like without the drawings, though now he looked more the a lobster or a mushy tomato.

The way he reacted wasn't at all how he was expecting to. The widest smile broke onto his face. He was finally free.


End file.
